Simple Lies
by Winking Tiger
Summary: Simple isn't so simple—it's easy and the coward's way. And the lies keep getting in the way. Musings of the Mind. S/V


**Simple Lies**  
by Winking Tiger 

**Completed:**

December 15, 2002 at 11:41 AM

**Summary:**

Simple isn't so simple—it's easy and the coward's way. And the lies keep getting in the way.

**Timeframe:**

Season Two; Abduction 

**Category:**

Romance/Angst 

**Pairing:**

Sydney/Vaughn

**Author's Notes:**

_This is a belated holiday gift.  Granted that it's not much, it's still something._

Any and all mistakes are mine, in that so are the words.

This is from a moment of "one-minded wavelength" and a quote that was left pregnant with possibilities. Oh, what some words pieced together into a sentence and temporary madness can do.

**Rating:**

PG-13 – contains minor references to graphic events 

* * *

_What do you really want?  What are your dreams? What is it that your heart desires?  __What is it that your mind tells you that you need?  What is it that your mind tells you that … You should want?  What is it you want?  What do you desire with all you are, and aren't? What do you desire with all you aren't?_

And what the hell do you do when lies surround you?

* * *

You pray for a miracle and you get it, but what you want isn't always what you _really want.  Clichés never seem to fail, even when they're overused and tired beyond all else._

_What do you really want?_

As if things couldn't be more complicated then they were.  Life as you know it has changed forever.  You never wanted more troubling, painful, difficult, and emotionally brutal occurrences—ever, in your life.  But that isn't your life, not anymore.

_What are your dreams?_

As a kid you see life through rose colored glasses.  Your mother's voice is amazing.  She should be a big music star.  You're father is always right.  You can climb trees, scrape your knees and make them heal magically with the touch of your mother's warm lips on that broken skin.  Girls have cooties and boys rule.  Things are simple.  Simple doesn't last long.

_What is it that your heart desires?_

So simple's out the window.  It fell violently from some high floor onto the merciless black pavement.  It fell.  It caused a large crash.  It broke.  It died.  It's gone—out the window.

But simple was always so easy.  You knew, **you knew, that Mom would be home everyday with a snack ready for your greedy salivating mouth.  When your eyes found the familiar sights of your room from the darkness of your eyelids once again, you ****knew that it was your Mom singing "good morning" to you.  When you found a stick in the back yard you ****knew that Cherie would fetch it when you threw it all of 2 feet away.  If it rained outside you ****knew that Pinky would scream and you and Mom would spend the entire storm by his cage trying to get him to shut up with the stupid jokes Ethan would tell you.  You ****knew that if you asked Dad if he'd be able to come to your game that he couldn't—though he was always "so sorry, wish I could be there kiddo."**

Simple's the easy way out.  And simple's the poor man—the weak man's version of a decision.

_What is it that your mind tells you that you need?_

I should … I mean I should want a stable—normal—life.  I should want that.  My mind yells at me, that little voice that's taken on the voice of Mom, screams to have that nice little house with the wife and 2.5 kids inside with the 1.3 pets waiting for me to come home.  I should, I should want that.

_What is it that your mind tells you that … You should want?_

But I don't—not anymore.  I want the life that's back to simple—without feeling like I've taken the easy way out, the coward's path in life.  But I'm a big boy, I've lived my own life, I've made my own decisions.  I've learned from my mistakes, or at least I've made enough to be able to learn from them.  I should want that perfect package.  Should is such a funny word.  Should: ought to, essential, required to, obliged to, duty, must, must, must.  Funny word should.

_What is it you want?_

Well "should" has now been thrown out the window with Simple.  They're lying next to each other on white gurneys in the morgue's office downtown—with white sheets over their heads.

What I want.  I want something that's too simple to be easy, simplistic in its complicated and twisted nature, and as horribly unattainable as one thing can be.

But then my arm can't reach that far.  And I won't pain myself trying to get something that's not even possibly, barley even tangible.

Simple.  The coward's word, the coward's route in life—simple.  That's what I did.  I took what I wanted and transposed it.  It has a new name now.  It has a new face now.  It sounds different.  It feels different.  Because it's Simple.  It's simply a different person all together, but she's nice and she's kind and it's all very simple.

_What do you desire with all you are, and aren't?_

It was always so simple.  I'd fallen into an old habit.  Do this, like you used to.  This way, like she wanted you to.  Get this, like this.  No, like she likes it, like you've always done for her.  Simple, she's made everything all very simple—just do the simple things she wants.

Wake up.  Go to work.  Do work.  Leave work.  Go home—see her.  Usual routine.

Simple.

But simple isn't what I want.  No it's not, I concede while going on with the usual routine—wash the dishes the way she likes you to while listening to her go on about her day.  How very simple.

Maybe I don't know what I want, I decide while going on with more of the routine.  Lock up the house, make sure everything's turned off and where it's supposed to be.  Get up to the bedroom.  Go change—wait for her to finish in the bathroom before brushing your teeth.

How could I not know, I realize as the routine continues on.  You're in bed now, she lying against you now.  And the routine takes a momentary departure for the reoccurring—not scheduled but still approved—event.

You've always known, you decide.  It's now wholly different you absentmindedly realize.  It was once very normal and what you wanted—this nonscheduled event.  It's not anymore—not this way.

I do know.  I know with my heart, with my head, with my soul—I rejoice.  But then simple and desire don't match tonight.  And the glorious truth rings in your ears, from your lips.  It was meant to be a glorious announcement, declaration.  But it turned ugly as soon as it faced simple.  "Sydney," you called.  And you received a questioning look, an unexpected grunt, and a swift slap to the face.  She didn't like the word.  She didn't treasure it like you did.  It wasn't as beautiful to her as it is to you.

Maybe it's because she's not you.  It could be because she's certainly not her.  But it's probably because she's not Sydney, you know, she's Alice.

_What do you desire with all you aren't?_

Sydney and Simple.  They don't really get along well.  The stinging on your cheek and the pain of the event tell you that much.

Simple is the coward's way out.  And Simple was so very easy.

But I can't face the lies anymore.  And I'm tired of avoiding simply unattainable.  Though simply wonderful has always sounded good.

Simple's been thoroughly dealt with and discarded.  But simply unattainable and still simply wonderful is hard to reach.  And it's never easy to believe that everything you know is a lie.

Sydney.


End file.
